Surprising Evil
by Ravishingly Discreet
Summary: Harry's not the savoir we all thought him to be...
1. Short Lived Vacation

A/N: Ian S has decided to defy various writers to write a story in which the beloved, to some, Harry Potter turns evil. Apparently, in his opinion, there aren't enough fanfics focusing on this. Here you go, Ian.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Harry? What is it?"  
  
"Are you awake?"  
  
A low groan was heard from the bed beside his, "Well, I am now."  
  
Normally Harry would have chuckled at this, but the intense burning of the scar on his forehead stopped him.  
  
He was about to open his mouth and spill out his thoughts and the dream that was haunting him, but at the sound of Ron's snores his mouth quickly closed and he drew in a long breath of air.   
  
"It's no big deal anyway. You'd only make yourself out to be a wuss." He thought, silently, to himself.  
  
Beginning to feel grateful for his friend's tiredness and short attention span, he rolled over in the cot and fell asleep watching the Chudley Cannons doze off on their broomsticks, forgetting the dream in which had caused him to awake in terror.   
  
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The dark haired wizard would have slept through the entire day if the hand of his freckled face friend hadn't shaken him awake.  
  
Taking a bite from one of the biscuits his mother had baked earlier that morning, he stared into the somewhat troubled eyes of his friend. "'Arry?"  
  
Harry pulled at the cotton blanket he'd been sleeping under and closed his eyes again. "What time is it?"  
  
Ron scratched his head, straightening and pulling at the short sleeves of his maroon sweater and swallowing the biscuit in his mouth, "It's past lunch. Mum's becoming mighty worried. She figured I should wake you."   
  
Harry's eyes shot open and he threw the blanket off, exposing the large flannel pajamas he was wearing, tied at the waist to keep them from falling down. They had once belonged to his overweight cousin, Dudley, but now that he was the size of a small whale they no longer fit and had been passed down to Harry.  
  
"You let me sleep to lunch?"  
  
Ron took another bite of the biscuit, chewing thoughtfully before he answered, taken back by his friend's alarm. "Well, yes."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and lifted the pajama top above his head, exposing the chest of a scrawny young fifteen year old.  
  
That was not what caused Ron's startle, it was the long bloody gash on his friend's side that caused him to jump.  
  
"H- H- Harry.." Ron said, his mouth falling open, exposing the remains of the biscuit he had just popped into his mouth.  
  
Harry looked at his friend with amusement, wondering if there was a spider on the window ledge behind him. Realizing that Ron's shaking hand was now pointing at his side, Harry looked down and began to panic himself.  
  
"Where in bloody hell did that come from?"  
  
"You bloody well 'ought to know!"  
  
The sweet, yet slightly irking voice of Mrs. Weasley floated up the stairs, interrupting them both. "Harry, dear, are you awake?"  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he shouted pulling the pajama top back over his torso to hide the cut. Stepping out into the corridor, Harry made his way to the top of the staircase, looking down at the plump figure of his best friend's mother.  
  
"I assume you had a nice sleep," She said, turning back towards the kitchen. "I'd suggest you hurry and get dressed, Remus will be here soon."  
  
"Remus?" Harry said, momentarily forgetting the cut on his side.  
  
"Yes, dear. He wants to speak with you." Her voice took a slightly sharper edge. "Of course I don't understand what would be important enough to interrupt your vacation with but not to tell myself of."  
  
Slightly confused, Harry made his way back to Ron's room, where the red head still stood gaping.  
  
"Ron, shove off."  
  
"Harry, finding a piece of yourself opened up and bloodied isn't something you normally scoff at."  
  
"One of the gnomes probably knicked me with a stick from your bushes yesterday. I guess I was too busy to notice. It's no big deal." The explanation was rushed, and both knew it was completely false.  
  
Ron wasn't at all satisfied, but eager to leave the room before Harry began to undress again.  
  
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"Hello, Remus."  
  
His previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, much too willingly, tore his eyes from the photo album in Mrs. Wesley's hand and fixed them on Harry, now fully dressed in a pair of large blue jeans, held up by a black belt, and the green sweater Mrs. Weasley had knit him the Christmas before.  
  
Mrs. Weasley frowned at Remus and dropped the album on the maroon couch, leaving in a huff to the kitchen.  
  
"What's wrong with her?" Asked Harry with a raised eyebrow in Mrs. Wesley's direction.  
  
"She's upset over the fact that I won't tell her what I'm here to discuss with you," He motioned for his former student to sit beside him.  
  
Once Harry had settled himself against the worn cushions, he began.  
  
"You of course understand that You-Know-Who has returned more powerful than ever?"  
  
With a reluctant sigh, Harry nodded, remembering the events of last term. "You can say his name, Remus."  
  
"Well, it seems he's found a new colleague." Remus sat back against the couch, flattening his green robes. "A very dangerous colleague."  
  
"Who?" Harry asked, his eyes widening. Voldemort was of every concern to Harry, since it seemed he would like nothing better than to finally kill the young Potter.  
  
"That's the problem, we don't know who. A muggle family, just last night, reported seeing a snakelike man, Voldemort, and a smaller hooded figure, emitting a strong green light from a wand as they walked. Afterwards they found their neighborhood to be in ruins. It was a horrid event, the ministry is up in arms trying to straighten out what happened, since they still refuse to believe Voldemort has returned."  
  
"Isn't it just another Death Eater?"  
  
"From the reported incidents we've received, it doesn't seem so. He's just as powerful as Voldemort," At this Remus stopped and locked eyes with Harry. "If not more."  
  
Harry, trying desperately to take the information in, looked at the friend of his deceased father with questioning eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
"Voldemort has tried many times to harm you, Harry, and with such a powerful new affiliate, he's sure to try again. Dumbledore, Sirius, and I think it would be best for you to return to the Dursley's for the remainder of your vacation."  
  
Harry gaped at the man sitting beside him. "I'd be more safe with a family of muggles who wouldn't think twice of handing me over to the likes of Voldemort?"  
  
Remus nodded, with a slight smile. "Believe it or not, Harry, it's true."  
  
Harry's face began to redden and his hands clench into fists, but his voice remained calm, although with notable strain. "I will not be going back to the Dursley's."  
  
Remus shook his head as Mrs. Weasley came back into the room, setting a silver platter of her freshly baked biscuits on the rickety coffee table in front of them, shoving aside several of Fred and George's Cockroach Clusters.  
  
Smiling politely and scarfing down a biscuit at the rate only a werewolf could manage, Remus stood up and shared one final glance with Harry who sat motionless and brooding.  
  
"I trust you'll find a way home for Harry." He said, addressing Mrs. Weasley. "He should return no sooner than tonight. Thank you for your hospitality," And with that Remus was gone, having apparated back to where he came from.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked down upon Harry, concern plastered across her face, "Home? Is something the matter Harry?"  
  
"Yes, those who've put themselves in charge of my safety are all crackpots."  
  
Mrs. Weasley frowned at him and patted his shoulder. "I'm sure they're only doing what they think is in your best interest, Harry."  
  
With a long sigh, Harry placed his teenage, acne scarred face into his hands and muttered darkly, "I know." 


	2. Yellow Volkswagen

A/N: Thanks bakuras-shards. I plan to continue. Why the hatred for Regis? o.0  
Eimaj, I'm flattered. Thanks for the compliment.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
"Okay, dear. Take care. We'll pick you up at the end of holidays for Diagon Alley." Mrs. Weasley shouted from the ground below, blowing her nose loudly on the floral print apron she wore over her blue, cotton dress, standing outside the burrow, a shabby house looking as if its many stories were about to tip over at any moment.  
  
"Boys," She called, now addressing Ron and his older brothers, Fred and George, identical twins, similar looking to Ron only two years older and less lanky than their younger sibling. "Be careful with that car." Her eyes fixed onto Ron's. "We can't afford to lose another one."  
  
She didn't approve of the car, bewitched to fly by their father, but it was the fastest way to get Harry home, and safe as long as they kept the invisibility booster on.  
  
The small yellow Volkswagen lifted up into the air and disappeared from sight.  
  
Fred and George sat up front, bickering about driving. George was driving at the moment, but if Fred had anything to say about it, that would soon change.  
  
Harry and Ron sat in the back, in complete silence.  
  
"It's rotten luck, you know," Ron started, wishing he could see his friend, but the invisibility booster prevented this. "It was turning out to be a good holiday and now you have to go back to those filthy muggles."  
  
Harry sighed, looking down at the green meadow they were passing, its tall blades of grass stirring in the light breeze and soaking up the bright sun that would scorch the skin of any human daring to step outside. "I don't want to go back, Ron."  
  
"I know. It's your rotten luck, Harry, not mine."  
  
Harry snorted. "So, you're glad to get rid of me?" His voice had hit a sharper edge, not a sign of puberty creeping upon him but because he was hurt by his friend's last comment.  
  
"Bloody hell, Harry. You know I don't mean that."  
  
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Half an hour later the car started to dip downwards.  
  
"George, up is that way!"  
  
"I can't see where you're pointing, Fred."  
  
"So, you admit it? You don't know which way up is?"  
  
Through their arguing, the car began to dip even lower and both Harry and Ron were holding their seats tightly. If they weren't invisible, they'd see that their knuckles were turning white.  
  
Below them was a busy highway, cars were zooming by at a fast speed, empty soda bottles and ketchup packets littering the ditches along side the roads.  
  
"Guys," Ron said, his voice hitting a high pitch. "Maybe you should watch the road.. or get us away from it!"  
  
Suddenly, the car began to swerve and dip even lower until they found themselves face down on the ground. The car, now visible, meters away, its doors open and riding away.  
  
"Stop it!" Shouted both the twins in unison, standing and running after it.  
  
As Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and ran after the two red headed pranksters, frantically failing their arms in vain to make their way to the car, Ron looked at Harry with a shrug, "Figure it knows our old car?"  
  
Harry laughed, despite the situation. In their second year they had taken the Weasley's previous car and flew it to Hogwarts. After being beaten by the Whomping Willow the car had thrown them out and rode away.  
  
Miraculously, the car stopped. It only did so to emit Harry's luggage, something it had forgotten to do earlier, but it was long enough for Fred to grab the door and jump into the driver's seat.  
  
"Who says you get to drive?" Panted George, bent over beside his brother.  
  
"Well, it looks like you didn't do too well in the driver's seat before."  
  
George couldn't argue with that and ran over to the passenger's side.  
  
Harry and Ron caught up with them, and got into the back seat, smiling at each other.  
  
Fred pulled on the steering wheel, directing the car up into the sky, and pressing the invisibility booster.  
  
Just as they flew away, a little girl driving along side her mother in a small red car squealed with excitement. "Mommy, that car just flew into the sky and disappeared!" 


	3. Friendly Letters

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
Although he knew both Ron and his brothers would get in trouble for it, Harry couldn't help but chuckle when he spotted the front page of Uncle Vernon's paper.  
  
Uncle Vernon had grunted at Harry's amusement, sounding much like a bear, which he also looked like with his large stature and bushy mustache.  
  
When he saw the front page though, he was anything but amused.  
  
"A car appearing out of no where? HARRY! You are not to be doing these peculiar things in public," He'd roared, obviously appalled at his nephew's behavior. Of course, he always was.  
  
Dudley, his cousin, had attempted to laugh, but because of how overweight he had become it was a difficult task and he only ended up making a weird gasping sound and falling from his chair, causing the whole kitchen to shake.  
  
While Uncle Vernon and his Aunt Petunia, a tall blonde with twice the amount of neck needed, busied themselves with frantically trying to upright Dudley, Harry snatched the paper and began to read the front page.  
  
A picture of the yellow Volkswagen, its doors open and completely empty, graced the front page along side a story which told of an accident that seemingly appeared out of no where and four young boys who hopped in the vehicle and disappeared.  
  
Harry tried not to picture Mrs. Weasley's face or her shrill screams that his friends were sure to be witnessing at this very moment. He also tried his best to refrain from thinking of the trouble Arthur Weasley, their father, would be at his work at the Ministry of Magic.  
  
This was all soon pushed out his mind as his uncle pounded one stern fist on the table and shouted, "Go to your room, boy!"  
  
He wasn't entirely sure why he was being sent to his room, perhaps for the car incident or causing Dudley to fall over, but whatever for, he was only glad that he was not being sent to his cupboard.  
  
Before he'd received his first letter from Hogwarts, or rather Uncle Vernon received and shredded the letter, he'd lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He'd gotten used to it, but it was nice to be away from the dust and spiders he'd grown accustomed to while sleeping there.  
  
As he climbed the stairs he decided to write a letter to Ron, asking if he was in very much trouble with his mother. Hermoine seemed like a likely candidate for a letter as well, after all he could only imagine how worried she'd be after seeing the front page.  
  
Climbing over the last step he walked into his room, fairly empty besides the closet, half filled with clothes all much too big, the bed with an extremely lumpy mattress and flimsy blanket, and his Hogwarts supplies scattered amongst the floor and the small wooden desk beside the window. The room had once been cluttered with Dudley's broken things, but much to his amazement, the Dudley's had cleared that out while he had been at Hogwarts the year before.  
  
In the previous years he hadn't been allowed to keep his supplies in his room, but thanks to Sirius, his convicted murderer of a godfather (mind you, he was innocent,) he had managed to convince his aunt and uncle that it would be best for him to keep them in his room.  
  
He pulled two pieces of parchment from the open trunk beside the desk and sat down on the hard plastic chair Uncle Vernon had thrust upon him as a birthday gift (he'd received much better presents from his friends, however. Ron had given him the newest Quidditch book, titled "Quidditch and the Way the Broom Soars." Hermoine had sent a months worth of owl feed, knowing he had trouble acquiring it at the Dursely's. Sirius had only been able to send a card, but inside was a promise of a happy life with Sirius as his guardian in the near future.) It had shocked him, the Durseley's were never so generous.   
  
The chair was cracked on the seat, and one leg was dangerously close to falling off, though. Harry guessed they wanted him to break his neck while sitting on it.  
  
He pushed aside a Potions and Divination book, picking up the eagle quill he'd received one Christmas from Ron, dipping it into a nearby bottle of black ink, and began to write.  
  
  
Ron,  
  
I just saw the front page of the muggle newspaper. I imagine you and your brothers are in awful trouble.  
  
You will be coming to Diagon Alley at the end August still, right?  
  
Write back soon, Harry  
  
  
He folded up the parchment, looking beside him at the Hedwig's empty cage.   
  
"I suppose I'll just have to wait until she returns."  
  
He grabbed the second piece of parchment, and pausing for a moment, began to write a second letter.  
  
  
Hermoine,  
  
Just wanted to drop you a line and ask how your holidays are going? Where are you again? Rome?  
  
You may or may not have heard of the accident displayed on the front page of the muggle newspaper.  
  
So that any suspicions may be put to rest, it was Ron, Fred, George, and I. We're all fine.  
  
Well, I am. Of course, Mrs. Weasley isn't my mum.  
  
Are you coming to Diagon Alley again with us at the end of August?  
  
Send your reply back with Hedwig, Harry.  
  
  
He folded that parchment up as well and glanced out the window, sighing despairingly at the identical houses that made up his neighborhood.  
  
"I'll be back at Hogwarts soon enough," he thought to himself. 


	4. Mousey Visitor

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
Hedwig didn't return until late that night, and when he did he was acting rather strangely.  
  
He dropped an enveloped letter and squirming ball of fur, which turned out to be a mouse, on the desk and perched on Harry's trunk, cocking its head at Harry and fixing him with a stare.  
  
Harry picked up the small gray mouse by its long pink tail, watching as it frantically tried to run away. For a moment, he thought of killing the mouse, perhaps dropping it out the window and watching the poor thing fall to its death. He shook his head, causing his hair to settle over his forehead, barely covering the lightning scar, the only evidence of Voldemort's curse that had failed to finish him so many years ago.  
  
Cupping the mouse in his hands, he opened his door and peered down the hallway. Seeing no one there, he stepped out and inched towards the staircase. Careful to avoid the steps that creaked, Harry slowly made his way down the stairs, passing the living room where Uncle Vernon and Deadly sat eating bowl after bowl of buttered popcorn while watching football and patting each other heartily on the back, and the kitchen where his Aunt Petunia sat, gossiping with a friend about Mrs. Next Door and the Man-Who-Isn't-Her-Husband.  
  
He made it to the front door, kicking aside his cousin Dudley's large expensive sneakers, and opening the door. Kneeling down he began to open his hands, then changed his mind and began to close them around the mouse's neck. It failed its legs at him, struggling for breath, until finally Harry realized what he was doing and let it drop down to the concrete step. It barely had its four limbs on the ground when it scurried away.  
  
Harry sat that way on the doorstep for a long time before he finally blinked and closed the door again.  
  
When he arrived back in his room, Hedwig and his letters to Ron and Hermoine were gone. He sat back on the hard, plastic chair and opened the envelope on which his named was scrawled in the hand writing of his godfather.  
  
  
Harry,  
  
Remus thought I should drop you a line and see if you were all right.  
  
  
(The writing began to get messier now, as if he had been mad when writing it.)  
  
  
Flying the Weasley's car back home? What were you thinking, Harry? Did the events of your second year leave your head completely?  
  
And what did you have to do with that crash the Ministry is trying to clear up? I hear poor Arthur is undergoing another inquiry.  
  
  
(After this, the writing calmed a bit.)  
  
  
Have a happy rest of holidays, and keep me informed on how those Muggles are treating you.  
  
Snuggles  
  
  
Harry smiled at the name at the bottom. Sirus had thought it safer to use a code name when talking of him of exchanging correspondence so that the Ministry wouldn't pick up on where he was and dump him back in Azkaban.  
  
Harry shuddered at the thought of having Sirus taken away from him again.  
  
He looked back at the note and noticed something on the bottom he hadn't seen there before.  
  
  
PS. See you at Hogwarts.  
  
  
Harry frowned. What did he mean? Sirus couldn't be walking around Hogwarts, the risk of getting caught would be much to great.  
  
He realized that Sirus would do anything for his safety, but foolishly he thought Sirus was in more danger than himself.  
  
He set the letter back on his desk, leaning back on the chair.  
  
What had been going through his mind when he'd been holding that mouse earlier? Surely he had been imagining the want to harm it. Harry had never felt anything quite like that before.  
  
Forgetting the wobbling leg, Harry leaned back farther in the chair, falling and landing on his backside.  
  
"Settle yourself up there!" Vernon grunted from downstairs.  
  
Harry remained on the floor, kicking the no good chair out from under him and closing his eyes.  
  
Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd fall asleep and wake up just in time to go back to Hogwarts. 


	5. An Unaccountable Mystery

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
When Harry did awake, it was near morning. He was no longer on the floor beside the remains of the plastic chair, but on top of his bed, dressed in his Hogwart's robes.  
  
A sensation of pain flooded his every sense, and as it soared through his body he realized that the origin of it was his scar.  
  
He brought his fingers to his forehead, pushing past the dark fringe, tracing the lightning shaped scar. Heat radiated from it, but at his touch the pain soon subsided.  
  
Breathing hard, Harry sat up.  
  
Hedwig was staring at him from her perch on his open window, her white wings outstretched a sif she planned ot take off at any moment. The cold and distant look in her eyes frightened him.  
  
He stood and began to walk towards the desk, but upon putting weight on his left leg he collapsed.  
  
Hedwig ruffled her feathers and flew off, leaving Harry gasping in pain on the floor, watching the white spot of his familiar disappear into the dark, early morning sky.  
  
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Harry suspected he had been lying on the floor for an hour or more before he finally got up the strength to stand and make his way back to his bed. Lifting the robe over his head, and exposing his bare chest and the mark that had once been the bloody gash gaped at by Ron, and that now graced his torso with an ugly scar, he pulled back his left pant leg, only to find that his skin was soaked in blood.  
  
He let out a strangled cry, jumbled thoughts rushing through his head like main street traffic, blurred and making no sense.  
  
Only one thought was clear; What did I do last night?  
  
Standing, and making an effort to keep his left foot off the ground, he leaned down and grabbed the broken leg of the chair that lay on his floor. Using it as a makeshift cane, he hobbled out of his room and down the hall to the upstairs bathroom, shutting the door and closing the latch.  
  
He could hear the Durseley's snores and thanked the heavens that they were still asleep. He didn't want to think of the trouble his current situation would get him in with his uncle.  
  
Sitting on the closed toilet beside the pewter sink, he took in a deep breath and focused on his task.  
  
He had to clean up his leg. Afterwards he could figure out what had happened.  
  
He grabbed the towel from beside the sink, hanging on a pewter hanger, and set it in the sink, spreading liquid soap on it and turning on the water.  
  
After clearing away the many excess bubbles produced as a result of this, he grabbed the wet towel and applied it to his leg, grimacing at the pain.  
  
He wished he had a maternal figure to do it for him, but he eventually had the injury cleaned up enough to see it's origin, what looked like a deep cut running down the length of his leg from his knee to ankle.  
  
Standing on top of the toilet, trying desperately to ignore the pain and stay upright, Harry grabbed a roll of bandages from the medicine cabinet.  
  
Once it was in his hand, Harry's balance instantly disappeared and he feel from his perch on the toilet seat to the floor, taking countless bottles of Aspirin and Tums with him.  
  
He waited, silent, on the cold marble floor, pain soaring up his leg and face where most of the impact had resided.   
  
He heard a grunt from his uncle's room, and then thankfully his aunt and uncle's snores. He had just let out a sigh of relief when he heard the unmistakable waddle of Dudley coming down the hall.  
  
He pounded on the bathroom door, squealing in a voice that would rival a pixie's song. "LET ME IN!"  
  
This, of course, woke Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and soon the entire Durseley family were knocking at the bathroom door.  
  
"HARRY! Get out of there!"  
  
Unable to think of any other response that would keep him out of trouble he mumbled, "I wet myself."  
  
He heard Dudley wheezing from the other side of the door, assuming he was trying to laugh, and Uncle Vernon chuckle absentmindedly.  
  
Much to his own delight, he heard them walking away, Uncle Vernon commenting loudly to Aunt Petunia, "I always knew the boy was disturbed."  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, standing painfully and on tip toe, managing to put the medicine bottles back into their proper place.  
  
Swinging the cabinet shut, to reveal a sour faced young teenager in its reflective surface, he sat back on the floor, an unraveled roll of bandages laying beside him.  
  
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Although how he managed to do it was part of the mystery that surrounded him that morning, he hobbled back out of the bathroom with his leg sufficently bandaged.  
  
Slamming his door shut, he crossed his room in two great steps and collapsed on his bed. "What in the bloody hell is happening to me?"  
  
He wished Hermoine was there to supply him with a logical explanation, or even Ron, so that he'd know he wasn't making up the entire thing.  
  
Even Hedwig wasn't there now. He was left alone with his thoughts, and the Durseleys below, laughing at his "accident."  
  
From pure exhaustion, Harry fell back into a restless sleep, tossing and turning, his subconscious tormented with foreign images and sounds. 


	6. An Unpleasant Drive

A/N: Moonshifter11, here's another chapter! ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.  
  
Reviews: Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.  
  
  
When Harry awoke it was past lunch time, according to alarm clock on his desk, and puzzled he wondered why the Durseley's hadn't awoken him yet. He was usually responsible for cooking lunch. It was then that he remembered the events of the morning and realized that both the scar on his forehead and injured leg were throbbing.  
  
Instinctively, he leapt from his bed to write to Dumbledore to tell him of the sudden pain. There were two problems with this, though. First of all, Hedwig still hadn't returned and he had no way to send the letter he wished to write, and secondly his leg would not support him as he reached the floor. For the second time that day, he lay on the floor in pain. This time, however, he was not alone.  
  
Dudley was standing at the door.  
  
"What happened to you?" he asked in his usual tone, only with a bit more taunting because of Harry's situation.  
  
"I hurt myself.." He faltered, then looked at the remains of the chair to his left "..falling off that ruddy chair."  
  
Dudley laughed, his pink face turning an amusing shade of purple and the floor beginning to shake. This signaled for his mother, Aunt Petunia, to hurry up the stairs.  
  
"Duddykins, are you all.." She stopped, her face turning white as she stared down at Harry from his bedroom doorway. "What happened to you?"  
  
Dudley found the strength to point to the remains of the chair before leaning up against the door frame and falling as it began to break away from the door. With a thunderous shake of the ground, Harry's limp body jumped a little and Aunt Petunia sighed disapprovingly. "We'll have to get you to the hospital, then. I'll call Vernon."  
  
Harry wanted to plead with her not to, he knew how angry his Uncle Vernon would get at having to drive Harry, of all people, to the hospital, but the pain was too much.  
  
Aunt Petunia faltered down the stairs, removing the crisp white iron from around the waist of her yellow cocktail dress with Dudley thundering behind her, not before whispering "Boy, will Dad have your neck for this!" from Harry's doorway.  
  
"I'm doomed," He muttered, attempting to bury his face in the cold wooden floor.  
  
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"Those god damned things," Said Uncle Vernon, referring to Harry's crutches in the back seat, "Cost more a few pounds, and what in bloody hell for? TWO STICKS OF WOOD?"  
  
Vernon's face was turning a shade of red, and his hands clutching the steering wheel were rapidly turning white. He turned his head while stopped at a red light, and looked back at Harry, sitting on the other side of his crutches and Cousin Dudley. "How do you manage to get yourself so bloodied up in that room of yours?"  
  
The doctor had also found the new scar on Harry's side, and it was now accompanied by stitches and a tight bandage. Harry looked down at the bandage on his leg and muttered, "It was that ruddy chair."  
  
Uncle Vernon was fuming and about to comment further when the sudden beep of a car horn informed him on the changing light and he sped off, his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal.  
  
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After receiving two speeding tickets from patrol officers, who returned quite shaken up to their cars after dealing with the heavy set man, the Durseley's and Harry finally returned to number seven, Privet Drive.  
  
Awkwardly, Harry hopped out of the car, pulling his crutches form the back seat while standing on one foot. While Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon entered the house, Dudley remained on the doorstep, taunting Harry.  
  
"You're a cripple now. It'd be much easier to push you down the stairs."  
  
"My wand hand still works," Harry muttered darkly, loud enough for Dudley to hear. "I could still curse you." Finally resting on his crutches, Harry shut the car door and made his way to the step, wincing as right crutch grazed his side.  
  
"Y- you can't." Although Dudley was remarkably sure of his last words, he faltered and was successfully scared.  
  
He tripped over the last step and lay sprawled over the cement bawling. His mother rushed out and, unable to take the large boy in her arms, hugged him around his neck and tried to comfort him with soothing words. Uncle Vernon stood behind her, glaring at Harry.  
  
"Oh boy," Harry thought, teetering around his cousin and aunt on the doorstep and sidestepping his uncle in the doorway. "The rest of my summer isn't going to be great."  
  
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True to his prediction, the remainder of his holidays were anything but great. Dudley had pushed him down the stairs a few times when he had his crutches (Thankfully, he no longer needed his crutches, although his leg was still sore. He wouldn't have wanted to see Draco's sneering face on the train if he had dared to come with crutches, it was enough to give Harry a week of nightmares. Not that he needed any new ones), he'd been punished half a dozen times for things he'd never done, and found a new cut on his right shoulder. He'd received several more letters from Ron and Hermoine, even one from Hagrid, and without Hedwig returning he'd sent all replies back with the owl they'd come with. Because of this, he hadn't yet owled Dumbledore about his scar.  
  
Sirius hadn't sent a letter back yet, and it worried him even more than his hurting scar and missing owl. Harry was certainly happy when he received a letter from Ron on the last week of vacation, informing him that they'd be arriving later that day and going to Diagon Alley for their needed school supplies.  
  
More and more frequently he was waking with his robes on and injuries throbbing. He couldn't figure out what was going on. Both Hermoine and Ron thought he was just sleep walking, but the throbbing of his scar told him otherwise.  
  
If only Sirius would owl him so he could ask what he thought. 


	7. Trapped

**Surprising Evil**

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**A/N- **I expect this chapter to be better than the last. Let's hope.. . 

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**Disclaimer- **I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters. 

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**Reviews-** Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism. 

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**Trapped**

The Weasley's arrived on the twenty-fourth of August just as the Dursley's were having lunch. 

Vernon had peered out the window, pushing aside Petunia's lacy white curtain, inspecting the yellow Volkswagen outside when six red haired and freckled Weasley's rang their door. 

"Your blasted friends, I suppose." Sneered Vernon. 

Dudley looked around wildly. The Weasley's last visit had resulted in Dudley's tongue growing four feet long. He stuffed the last of his lettuce leaf in his mouth, grabbing for Harry's, and then ran up the stairs, causing a shake and noise in the house that must have alarmed the Weasley's outside. 

BOOM! 

Dudley squealed from up stairs, slamming his door shut, most likely sending it off its hinges. Petunia sipped her tea with a shaking hand and Vernon flattened down his mustache. "I suppose blowing apart our chimney last time wasn't enough." 

Harry left his plate, empty after Dudley's greedy hands grabbing its contents, and moved to the front hall, where the door sat on the floor and Mr. Weasley was looking around, his wand out and pointed up the staircase. 

"Oh, hello Harry. I thought something might be wrong." 

"It was just my cousin, Dudley, running up the stairs." 

Fred and George snickered, elbowing each other in the sides. Mrs. Weasley cast them each a most disapproving look. 

"Well, come on then Harry. I expect you'll be wanting to leave." 

Both his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had remained in the kitchen, and that suited Harry just fine. 

Harry picked up the barren suitcase from the floor and Hedwig's empty cage. Fred and George came in behind him and each took an end of his trunk containing all his wizard belongings. His wand, of course, was in his pocket. Since the events of last term when Voldemort had rose again, he'd had to be extra careful; he was also a bit more paranoid now since the last few weeks when he'd been waking up in the middle of the night, injuries throbbing and in his wizard's robes. 

Harry sighed at the thought and pushed Mr. Weasley out the door before he could provoke his aunt and uncle. 

"Aren't they going to be saying good bye to you?" 

"They already did," Harry lied hastily. "Anyway, they're busy let's go." 

With a flick of his wand, Mr. Weasley had repaired the Dursley's door and soon Harry was riding down the Muggle highway in the back seat of the spacious Volkswagen, with Ron's siblings. 

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They didn't head to the Burrow, but Muggle London and parked in front of the dingy looking pub. 

"You can all get out here," Said Mr. Weasley. "I'll drive this back to The Burrow and Apparate to Diagon Alley and find you all later." 

They all agreed to this and exited from the car, attracting stares from the Muggles. Harry noticed Ginny, who had been sitting beside him during the ride, was awfully red faced, well more than normal. He cast an odd look at Ron, but he only shrugged. 

Entering the pub, they found themselves face to face with the withered and toothless face of the owner, Tom. 

"Mrs. Weasley! A pleasure! And you too Harry! Coming to stay again?" 

They all shook their heads and he shrugged. "Ah well. Another time maybe?" 

He wiped his hands on the white apron he wore and ushered them to the back, seeing them outside to a solid brick wall, the entrance to Diagon Alley. 

Mrs. Weasley tapped the third brick above the dumpster, empty expect for a couple label-less glass bottles, and the wall opened into a high archway, leading to Diagon Alley, a street filled with all sorts of shops filled with magical items. 

They immediately headed to the large white building, Gringotts the Wizarding Bank, at the far end of the street. 

Harry began to feel uncomfortable, remembering the small amount of money always in the Weasley's account, and the small fortune his held. 

Assisted by a small, surly goblin named Disbare, they made their way into a cart and whizzed their way down the tracks of the bank towards the Weasley's vault. 

Harry bit his bottom lip as Mrs. Weasley swept the few piles of Sickles in the vault into her purse. 

Once at his vault, Harry tried to swing the door to obstruct the view of the many galleons from the Weasley's. This, however, didn't work in his favor since it continued to swing until closed. 

"What did you do that for?" He could hear Ron shout from the cart. 

"Just let me open in with the key.." Said the low voice of Disbare, but Harry moaned. 

"I have the key!" 

After opening the vault, Disbare had given the key back to Harry. 

"Oh my, _oh my_. I'll have to get the boss, I will." 

"We can't just leave Harry in there!" Shouted Mrs. Weasley, rather despairingly. 

"Can't you just run your finger down the door and open it?" Asked Harry, remembering vault 713 from his first visit to 

Gringotts with Hagrid, Hogwarts' Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor. 

"No. That's only for special cases. Not for this. Require powerful magic it would. Too bad you didn't know how to Apparate." 

"Well, of course he can't!" Exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. "He's only fifteen." 

"Harry will be fine waiting in there for another two years." 

"That's the spirit, Fred!" Responded George. 

"Shaddup," Growled Ron. 

"Well, at least you won't have to worry about You Know Who. Ouch, Mum!" 

Harry sank down among his piles of gold. Fred, or was it George, was right. He doubted Voldemort would bother him here. He also doubted he'd find himself waking up in the middle of the night with his wizard robes on. He wasn't looking forward to starving to death, since he doubted they'd be able to magic any food in. 

"Harry, are you all right?" 

"I'm sure he's still in there, Mum." 

"Stop that, George." 

Harry sighed. "Considering that I'm going to be locked inside my Gringotts vault for the rest of my life, I'm fine." 

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll get you out." 

Disbare interrupted her. "But the vaults are designed so that only someone with a key can get in." 

"Optimist, isn't he Fred?" 

"Sure is, George!" 

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?" 

The last voice sounded oddly like Ginny. 

He heard the twins mutter something and then Ron thank Ginny dismally. 

"Well, let's get back up to the main floor. We'll have to ask Kudos about this. He's not going to be happy about this." 

"Ron, dear, you stay with Harry." 

From outside the vault he could heard Ron gulp nervously. "Y- yeah.. OK." 

"Bye Ickle Ronnykins!" Shouted the twins as he heard the familiar sounds of the cart rambling off. 

"Great mess this is!" Exclaimed Ron, who Harry guessed with pacing outside the vault door. 

"Sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to close the door." 

"What were you doing anyway?" There was a moment of silence. "Hiding your money from us, I suppose? We do know what it looks like." 

"I know _that_, Ron. I just felt embarrassed." 

"For being bloody rich?" He asked angrily. "I can see why.." 

They fell into another silence. Harry looked around the vault. Only cobwebs in the upper corners accompanied the stone walls and piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins. 

"I'm sorry, Ron." 

"For being rich?" 

"_No_," He answered smartly. "For locking myself in here." 

"Well, you should be!" 

After a few more seconds of silence they both burst out laughing. "Just wait until Hermoine hears about this." 

"She'll never let me live it down," Groaned Harry. 

"She'll strangle you for being so stupid." 

They both laughed again but were stopped by a distant roar. 

"W- what was that?" 

"Hagrid _did_ say they kept dragons down here." 

"D- dragons?" Asked Ron. 

They'd dealt with a dragon before, but it had only been a baby; a pet of Hagrid's. Harry had even fought one in the Triwizard Tournament last term. Well, stole its egg without being killed. Still, it had been quite an accomplishment. Still, that didn't make Ron feel any better, being out there alone. 

A cart whizzed by and stopped, the familiar chatter of the Weasley family filled his ears. 

"Scared, Ronnykins?" One of the twins asked, their voice dripping with false sincerity. 

"Out of the way!" Called an unfamiliar voice. Its owner tapped the vault door and then asked, "Are you sure about not leaving him in there for awhile?" 

"Of course we're not going to leave him in there!" Answered Mrs. Weasley. 

"Well, I suppose I can try to get him out." 

Harry crossed his fingers and crawled back to the far wall. Just in case they blew off the door or something. 


	8. Able to Breathe

Surprising Evil  
  
  
A/N- I'm taking this oppurtunity to thank all my reviewers! Thanks for taking the time to tell me what you think.   
  
As well, thanks to Malishka for offering to be my beta, and the ever so wonderful MagicalMe for the same (Although I'm not quite sure if I'll be sending this story to her.)  
  
Disclaimer- I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.   
  
Reviews- Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.   
  
  
Able To Breathe   
  
  
Harry could hear pacing from outside the vault door. He drew in a breath of the stale air and suddenly realized there wasn't much of it in the room. If they didn't get him out soon, he'd suffocate! Taking small breaths, Harry tried to keep from panicking. Too bad it didn't work. The small breaths caused Harry to hyperventilate, which for his situation could be fatal.   
  
"Let's see. What will work? How about.." The stranger tapped the door again and shouted, "Dor Deba Aperto!"   
  
Nothing happened.   
  
The stranger resumed to pacing.   
  
"Maybe.." The door was tapped once again. "Fuori!"   
  
Nothing happened.   
  
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Sixty minutes worth of strangling breaths on Harry's part and nonsense words on the stranger's, the vault still remained closed.   
  
"This one will work.."   
  
Harry looked down at his fingers, white from being crossed for such a long time.   
  
"Oburaco Defogo!"   
  
Much to Harry's relief, a small flaming hole appeared in the cement vault door. First only a pin prick, but soon growing. He could see Fred and George jumping up, letting out a huge shout and nearly knocking a sleeping Ginny out of the cart.   
  
Mrs. Weasley blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief and Ron jumped and pounded his fist in the air.   
  
Harry couldn't see the goblin who had saved him, because the hole had stopped growing, just large enough for a Muggle basketball to fit through, and it was well above Harry's head.   
  
"Now what?" Asked Ron, despairingly.   
  
Harry sighed, deeply relieved. He hadn't gotten out, but at least he could breath.   
  
One of the twins scoffed at Ron while the other answered, "He's going to give our buddy here the key and we're going to get him out!"   
  
Both Ron and Harry brightened. Maybe he wouldn't die today after all.   
  
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Once the vault door had opened, Harry had scrambled out and closed it eagerly behind him, only to remember he hadn't yet filled the leather pouch hanging by his side with any of the money.   
  
Kudos, a small goblin with yellow skin, had grumbled and unlocked it once again, holding tightly to Harry's key and keeping the door wide open as Harry piled Galleons and Sickles into his pouch. Once out, and with the door shut they had the problem of the hole of fire still in the door.   
  
Orange and red flames licked at the cement sides, making it easy for anyone to reach in and steal Harry's small fortune.   
  
"Aren't you going to close it?"   
  
Kudos rolled his eyes and muttered, tapping the spot above him and shouting, "Para Ser Llenado."   
  
The space filled, and content and all present, the Weasley's and Harry got back into the cart and were soon facing the sunshine of Diagon Alley.   
  
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"Where have you been?" Asked the wheezing voice of Mr. Weasley, running up behind them. "I've been looking everywhere. I thought you'd be out of Gringotts by now."   
  
Fred and George both smiled. "Harry just got himself locked in his vault."   
  
Mr. Weasley looked at Harry and taking in a breath of air, asked "Is that true?"   
  
Harry looked down at the ground. "Yeah."   
  
Ron laughed and hit him on the back, knocking him forward. "Don't be embarrassed, Harry. I'm sure others have done it."   
  
Mr. Weasley scratched his head as if in deep thought. "Actually, I don't think anyone has."   
  
Harry's face reddened causing both twins to grin widely and begin laughing hysterically.   
  
Noticing this. Mrs. Weasley scolded them both and began to push the group forward. "Why don't we head to Flourish and Blotts? You'll all need new quills and parchment."   
  
Mr. Weasley followed behind, obviously curious as to how Harry got locked in his vault.   
  
Harry's face was beginning to lose the blushing shade of red when they heard the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy nearby. "But Father, it's not my fault the filthy mud blood.."   
  
The blonde haired, pale faced boy stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Harry and the Weasley's. Much to everyone's amazement he, along with his father, an older version of Draco, gave a curt nod to Harry and turned, walking in the opposite direction.   
  
"What was that all about?" Asked Ron, gaping at the retreating backs of the Malfoy's.   
  
"I don't know." Answered Harry, staring after them as well.   
  
Mr. Weasley interrupted the one sided inquiry by commenting, "Lucius has been under special watch by the ministry lately; maybe this is his way of showing us he's on our side."   
  
Harry, Ron, and both twins snorted. Ginny looked a bit uncomfortable, after all, it had been Lucius Malfoy who had convienently dropped the diary preserving a fifteen year old Tom Riddle, soon to be Lord Voldemort. Unknowingly to her, he had brainwashed her into performing his tasks to harm Muggles, Muggle born, and those who would befriend them. She shuddered.   
  
"Well, come on then." Said Mrs. Weasley, "We have better things to worry about than the Malfoy's sudden politeness, such as our school things," She concluded nervously.   
  
She ushered them into the nearest store.   
  
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When they returned back to the pub they were laden down with packages of school books, quills, robes, and potions supplies. Harry's brand new, while the Weasley's held second hand.   
  
"Traveling by Floo Powder?" Asked Tom cheerily.   
  
Harry groaned. He couldn't wait until he'd learned to Apparate. Today would have been much less of a hassle, and he'd never have to travel by Floo Powder again. At least, not if he had anything to say about it.   
  
The walked in past the crowded tables filled with witches and wizards chatting merrily over drinks and meals. A few cast stares, not at Harry but the scar on his forehead. He was used to it by now and offered to go first, once they reached the chimney, "Might as well get it over with," He muttered as Tom handed him a bit of the powder. Taking off his glasses, and setting them in his pocket, Harry threw the powder into the small fire at the bottom, stepping into it as it grew into green flames and making sure to tuck in his elbows and shout clearly.  
  
This plan was stopped by Ron's shout, "Harry!"  
  
Forgetting where he was, Harry began to call back, "Ro- .." quickly recovering and shouting "The Burrow!"  
  
Just not quick enough.  
  
The ashes swirled around him and an impending sense of doom dawned upon him.  
  
"Why me?" He thought to himself, squeezing his eyes closed. 


	9. The Manor

Surprising Evil  
  
  
A/N- Once again, a huge thanks to all my reviewers.  
  
Disclaimer- I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any of the below mentioned characters.   
  
Reviews- Widely welcome. This includes constructive criticism.   
  
  
The Manor  
  
  
With a crash into the side of a grate, Harry landed on all fours, covered from head to toe in black ashes. The sense of doom that had been sinking down upon him earlier crashed down in full force as he looked at his surroundings. This was definitely not The Burrow.  
  
The chimney in which he sat was finely constructed of well placed bricks, framed with black steel and accompanied by three slightly charred logs sitting underneath his feet. He stepped out into a large room, its ceiling sitting high above him and arching into a point. The walls were painted a gleaming white, and facing him was a large open way leading out into a white hall, its floors the same polished wood as in this room.  
  
A red cushioned love seat, held up on black legs, sat comfortably by the left wall, a large black, and slightly cruel looking, arm chair directly facing it, and the right wall opposite it holding several hard backed wooden chairs.  
  
Hearing footsteps, Harry quickly ducked behind the love seat. He had narrowly made it behind the sofa just in time to hear the two voices he'd least expected.  
  
"What business have you called me here for, Lucius?" The words rolled familiarly from the hateful man's lips and Harry's face was contorted into disgust. That voice could belong to no other than his greasy haired potions master, Serverus Snape.  
  
"I believe it was you who wanted to know the identity of Voldemort's new ally?" Lucius's accusing voice rang out.  
  
Harry knew Snape was a spy for Professor Dumbledore in Voldemort's inner circle, putting him on their side, but he'd never completely trusted the man. He was vile and rude, and hated Harry with an undying passion. Sitting in the Malfoy's entrance room talking about the Dark Lord didn't improve any thoughts of Snape in Harry's mind.  
  
The bark of a dog brought him back to reality and away from his thoughts of Snape. For some reason the noise had sounded familiar, and carefully peering out from behind the couch he saw his godfather sitting by the open way, in his anigamus form of a black dog, wagging his tail and barking at a fair haired young boy.  
  
"Draco," Snape greeted the young man, rather coldly. Draco nodded and sprawled himself out onto the love seat.  
  
"Weren't you going to that young Crabbe's this afternoon?"  
  
"Eager to rid of me, Father?" Draco asked cruelly.  
  
Lucius shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "I was merely wondering, Draco."  
  
"Crabbe wanted to impress me with his new broom." Harry couldn't see his face but he guessed it had resumed a position of ignorance, one most common to Draco. "I don't see how the clad will stay up in the air long enough to fly over here."  
  
Snape had made his way over to the grate, leaning against the chimney and scrutinizing the room with his beady black eyes.  
  
"What type does he have?"  
  
"A Firebolt."  
  
Both son and father snickered.  
  
"Well, Draco you surely have him beat with that new broom I've bought you."  
  
"Lightning Speed 8000," Draco purred almost fondly.  
  
"Well, shouldn't we get on with this?" Asked Snape, sounding quite irritated at the father-son chatter.  
  
"Impatient to find out, are we Serverus?"  
  
Sirius barked again, and the potions master and two Malfoy's turned their heads towards the hall.  
  
"Probably Crabbe now," said Draco hopping from the couch and sauntering into the hall.  
  
"Come, Serverus. He's probably brought his father and Crabbe did say he had something to share with me." Lucius followed his son.  
  
Snape exited the room last, kneeling down and whispering loud enough for Harry to hear, "You stay here" to the black dog.  
  
Sirius growled, but did indeed stay as Snape marched out into the hallway.  
Once the room was empty, besides the two presences of Harry and Sirius, a voice jolted the young boy.  
  
"You can come out now, Harry." Spoke the quiet and bemused voice of Harry's godfather.  
  
"How'd you know?" Harry asked, standing and rubbing at the ashes on the sleeves of his gray sweater.  
  
"Dogs have a great sense of smell."  
  
He walked over to his godson, nuzzling against the leg of his faded blue jeans.  
  
"How have you been Sirius?"  
  
He didn't answer, instead he asked, rather accusingly "What are you doing here?" And then, perking his ears, he pushed Harry down and walked back to the door.  
  
Harry was about to cry out when Snape and Lucius walked back into the room.  
  
"Great oaf he is, that Crabbe." Lucius scoffed, settling himself on the black armchair.  
  
"I must agree," Said Snape, sitting awkwardly on the love seat. "He never was too bright."  
  
"I must say, though, Serverus, upon my piece of news your face resembled his in the best of times."  
  
Snape swallowed hard. "It was a great deal of information to soak in, Lucius."  
  
With a quick glance at the black dog at the open way, Harry could tell Sirius had no clue to what they were talking about either.  
  
"It's most pleasing, though, to know of our new ally." Lucius added.  
  
"Yes, of course." Snape stood and walked to the chimney. "Come Snuffles."  
  
Harry had to hide back a snicker. Neither Snape nor Sirius looked pleased at using the name.  
  
"Honestly, Serverus, I don't see why you felt you had to take that mangy dog along."  
  
Sirius growled, walking into the grate ahead of Snape.  
  
Snape picked up a handful of the dust from the silver pot sitting above it and threw it into the fire that had appeared after a flick of the wand, concealed in his robe. As he disappeared into the green flames, his words were lost on Harry, he was too busy listening to Lucius.  
  
"Yes, Voldemort's new ally is most pleasing."  
  
At that, he walked from the room and Harry scurried into the grate himself. Repeating Snape's before actions he shouted out "The Burrow!" Watching as Lucius's shocked face, returning to the room, came back into view and the Malfoy Manor disappeared, Harry anticipated his arrival at The Burrow.   
  
Confusion entered his thoughts at the sense of dread filling him. The thought of Voldemort's ally being discovered should be comforting, but something nagged at the back of his mind. A sense of dread had filled him and it refused to leave as he arrived in the warm household of the Weasley's. 


	10. Urgent Explanations

**Surprising Evil**

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**Disclaimer-** Harry Potter and all other recognizable patterns and/or settings were created within the mind of JK Rowling, not my own. 

**A/N-** I took a long time to write this. I hope it's written well.****

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**Urgent Explanations**  
  
Slamming against the grate once again, wincing at the pain of his side that took the brunt of the impact, feeling some of the stitches come loose, Harry found himself back in the Weasley household. Stumbling out of the grate, he looked around at the crowd in their kitchen.  
  
The entire Weasley family (minus Charlie and Bill, Ron's eldest brothers) and Remus Lupin sat on the spindly wooden chairs at the twice expanded kitchen table.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was the first to react, jumping from her chair, causing the empty plates on the table to leap from their spots, and grasping Harry in an overbearing hug, smothering him in her flowery apron. Harry could feel the warmth radiating from her, but instead of comforting him it only made him feel awkward and irritated.  
  
Once Mrs. Weasley had finally released him he was able to see that the rest of those who had been sitting at the table were now circling in on him. As he moved towards Fred and George who were eagerly waiting to pat his back, his outstretched arm brushed against the pale skin of Ginny.  
  
The expression of relief that had flooded Ginny's face was now replaced with one of horror. She backed away, and Harry was grabbed by Fred and George before he had time to ponder this. With George and Fred's hands throwing threatening blows down on his back, Harry found it hard to hold Percy's hand, which was gripping his own fiercely.  
  
"G- glad to s- see you're okay, Harry."  
  
In amazement, Harry watched the stuttering Percy, so out of character.   
  
Ron was watching him as well. He threw Harry a questioning glance, one filled with suspicion; but of what?  
  
Mr. Weasley's voice rose over the crowd, instructing them all to take a seat, and Harry was about to do just that when Remus Lupin pulled him aside.  
  
"As I'm sure you've already guessed, Sirius told me where you were, and what you overheard."  
  
"So, it's true," Gulped Harry. "They've found out Voldemort's ally?"  
  
Remus nodded. "Well, Serverus has. He refuses to share the information with anyone but Dumbledore, though. We'll know soon enough."  
  
Harry returned the nod, while Remus's expression hardened.  
  
"What were you doing at the Malfoy's in the first place?"  
  
Fred and George's strains to hear their conversation were no good, as Remus's voice was purposely hushed.  
  
Harry suddenly remembered Ron calling his name when he was about to depart back to the Weasley's by Floo Powder in The Leaky Cauldron. "It was a mistake."  
  
After watching his expression for a long while, Remus finally decided there was truth in this and turned back to the Weasley family, his tattered robes swaying with his motion. "I'll be off then. Thank you for your hospitality."  
  
But Mrs. Weasley wasn't going to let him escape this time. She threw a quite menacing look at him, standing from her seat and gesturing to a seat beside her son, Ron.  
  
Nervously, Remus took the seat, and Harry sat beside him.  
  
"Scalloped potato, Harry?" Asked Remus, gesturing to the newly appeared pile of them.  
  
Harry laughed. It was surely saying something if Mrs. Weasley could intimidate even a werewolf.  
  
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After fifth helpings of scalloped potatoes, great globs of orange carrots, fried trout, and sugared custard, Harry followed suit of Remus Lupin, (who had disapparated only seconds before) and excused himself from the table, after much insisting from Mrs. Weasley that he help himself to some more custard. He climbed the steep, winding staircase to Ron's room.  
  
He sat down on the small cot he'd slept on last time, and looked around the orange room. Chasing away all thoughts, he decided to mercifully give himself up to his subconscious under a sea of thin blankets. This brilliant idea was put to an abrupt stop when Ron entered the room, causing Harry to cease his undressing. Staring longingly at the gray pajamas Mrs. Weasley had set at the end of the cot, he watched as Ron's long legs carried him to the other side of the room.  
  
Sitting on his bright orange bedspread, he stared up at Harry expectantly. "Hurry then, it's almost dark and I'm bloody tired."  
  
Harry turned his back to his friend, beginning to change into the pajamas, nonchalantly asking, "What are you talking about?"  
  
Ron let out a bothered sigh and stared at Harry so hard it might have burned holes through the back of his head. "Where did you end up? You know, from the Floo Powder? Whose grate?" Harry found it odd that Ron was so desperately jogging his memory.  
  
Finished changing, with his dirtied laundry on the floor, he sat on the cot facing Ron. "The Malfoy's."  
  
As hard as he might have been trying, Ron's gasp could not be stifled. Without bothering to change he slipped under his orange covers, staring up at the chipped white ceiling.  
  
Harry continued.  
  
"Malfoyand his father were bickering about him going to Crabbe's. Crabbe has a Firebolt."  
  
"He does?"  
  
"Yeah," Said Harry, sliding under his own covers of a faded maroon. "And Malfoy has a Lightning Speed 8000."  
  
With a sharp intake of breath, Ron let out something that sounded suspiciously like "Wow."  
  
Regaining himself, Ron asked. "That's all that happened?"  
  
Of course, it wasn't. Sirius and Snape had been there, discussing Voldemort's new ally. But something held back this explanation and Harry made his decision, nodding to himself. "Yeah."  
  
Ron shut off the bedside lamp, ending the conversation and diminishing the room's light.  
  
After a few moments of silence, and Harry on the verge of sleep, he called out his friends name.  
  
"What, Harry?"  
  
"Why'd you call me back at The Leaky Cauldron."  
  
With his ears no doubt turning the shade of red they always did when under pressure, he muttered "I thought you had dropped your glasses when you slid them in your pocket."  
  
Yawning, Harry took the explanation as the truth, not realizing he wasn't the only one who could leave a vital story untold. 

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_He'd left the comfort of the furnace that was Ron's room for the cool night air of a quiet Muggle neighborhood. Well manicured lawns and picket fenced houses sped by him as he walked up the paved street. It was entirely empty, without a single light lit, yet it wassurprisingly easy to see. __  
  
__But, as Harry's eyes traveled to the far end of the street he saw that it wasn't empty. A dark cloaked figure stood facing him, its hood masking its face.__  
  
__A sense of urgency filled him, and Harry began to run. Soon he was on top the still figure, beating him vainly with his fists.__  
  
__The figure's hood fell, and Harry began to slip away. __  
  
__The figure's forehead held a lightning scar; Harry's lightning scar.__  
  
_Panting, Harry awoke back in Ron's room, happy to notice he hadn't changed into his wizard's robes this night.  
  
The dream was troubling him to no end, though, and the intense pounding of his scar wasn't helping his state of mind.  
  
Muttering over and over "It was just a dream," Harry fell back into a state of uneasy sleep. 


	11. Catlike Hints

**Surprising Evil**

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**Disclaimer- **As much as we may all hate it, JK Rowling got to the Harry Potter characters first. Therefore, she owns the right to use them, not I. 

**A/N- **Hope this is long enough, Malishka. It was hell to type. 

**Catlike Hints**

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****The silvery orb of the moon had already sank below the trees surrounding the clearing in which The Burrow sat when the sun rose, its violent rays disrupting the darkness engulfing Ron's room. Despite his restless sleep the night before, Harry awoke.  
  
He lied in the cot, his eyes shut, trying to capture the last wisps of his dream that remained. The sun's light invaded his thoughts and forced his eyes open. Combined with the golden rays of sunlight, Ron's orange room produced a blinding effect.  
  
Harry snuck past Ron's sleeping figure (which was quite hard since he was half off the bed, mouth open and a puddle of his saliva forming on the orange carpet) and the sleeping Quidditch players, barely remaining on their brooms, in the posters covering the room's walls. He even managed to slip out the door without swinging its creaking hinges too loudly.  
  
The familiar sounds and smell of coffee being made wafted up the stairs and towards Harry; signalling that others were out of bed.He hurried down the stairs, careful not to step too heavily on the ones he knew to make a clamor.  
  
Arthur Weasley and his son Percy sat at the table, having what Harry could only assume was a father-son moment.  
  
In the nervous tone of the evening before, Percy seemed to be trying to get up the nerve to tell his father something. Much to Percy's own horror (or possibly relief; it was hard to tell) Harry interrupted them by entering the kitchen.  
  
Percy stood and flattened his navy work robes, identical to his father's, with the Ministry of Magic seal just below his left shoulder. "T- thanks, Father.."  
  
He picked up the bulging suitcase beside his chair, and with an uneasy wave to Harry, disapparated before he could hear his father's protests of "But Percy, you never told me what was troubling you."  
  
Harry looked at Mr. Weasley, who was wiping his brow in a worried fashion.  
  
Two steaming cups of coffee floated their way over to the table, the coffee beans and hot water kettle on the cupboard fleeing back to their correct places.   
  
Mr. Weasley motioned towards the empty chair and newly filled coffee mug. Harry took them both, too polite to oblige the bitter tasting coffee.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, what's wrong with Percy?"  
  
Mr. Weasley sighed and took a drink from his chipped coffee mug. "The events of last year involving Mr. Crouch shocked Percy to no end. Things are also getting a bit serious with Ms. Clearwater as well. I suppose he's been under a lot of strain lately."  
  
When Voldemort had regained power last year, he had been performing the Imperius Curse on Barty Crouch, Percy's highly looked upon boss. The man was now deceased and Percy was the assistant to Mrs. Loitle. She was far less tightlipped and strict than Mr. Crouch had been, and thisanything but pleased Percy.  
  
Mr. Weasley took another sip from his coffee and looked up at the clock with a jump. "Good heavens, if I don't hurry I'll be late for work."  
  
Absentmindedly flicking his wand, his coffee cup flew at the nearest wall, shattering to pieces. While the cleaning appliances cleaned up his mess, Mr. Weasley grabbed his suitcase and was about to kiss Harry on the cheek before he realized Harry wasn't his wife.  
  
Turning a funny shade of red, he waved to Harry and disapparated, leaving Harry in the kitchen alone with tutting appliances and a mug of bitter coffee.  
  
Harry set his untouched mug of coffee on the table and looked up at the Weasley's clock. It held seven hands, one for each of the Weasley's living at home (Charlie and Bill didn't have one, since they were in Romania and Egypt for their jobs). Five of them were pointed at 'Home' where the twelve is on a Muggle clock. Mr. Weasley's was at work (the six on a Muggle clock).. but where was Percy's? With a gasp, Harry realized it was pointing at the spot where the three would be, clearly labeled 'Danger.'  
  
Harry turned back to his coffee, and staring into the swirling liquid tried to figure out what he should do.  
  
"Harry, dear?"  
  
Jolted out of his torpor by Mrs. Weasley's concerned voice, he turned to find her staring down at him from under her fiery red hair, wearing a white house dress.  
  
"I didn't know you drank coffee."  
  
Smiling sheepishly at her, he replied "I usually don't."  
  
She took her wand from inside her sleeve and waved it at the mug, and Harry watched as it floated towards the sink, draining out the coffee and beginning to wash itself.  
  
"I see Arthur and Percy made it to work," Said Mrs. Weasley, now sitting beside Harry.  
  
Amazed, Harry looked back at the strange clock, only to find that Percy's hand was now pointing to 'Work.' Had he just been imagining that it had been on danger?  
  
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Mrs. Weasley's insisting that he go back to bed finally succeeded, and Harry trudged up the steps to Ron's room.  
  
Ron was awake, lying on his back watching the sun's rays dance on his ceiling. His orange bedspread was tossed aside, revealing the white bed sheet underneath and Ron clothed in yesterday's garb.  
  
"I was beginning to think Voldemort had come and snatched you up," he retorted dryly.  
  
"Come off it, Ron," Harry laughed. "Don't be such a git."  
  
Ron shrugged as best he could in his current position as Harry sat down on the cot across from him. Ron squeezed his eyes shut and screwed up his face in a look of disgust. "It's too early to be up."  
  
After a moment of silent agreement, Ron continued. "We've only five days left of vacation."  
  
Harry groaned and let himself fall onto the cot's thin mattress. "Trelawney's Divination classes will give us a chance to sleep,at least."  
  
SybillTrelawney was their Divination professor. She was a batty old woman who thought the little bit of sight she did hold made her superior to everyone else.  
  
"Who can sleep with her murmuring about your death every five seconds? I'm beginning to think we should have followed Hermione out of the classroom in third year."  
  
Hermione, their bushy haired and mostly rule abiding friend had left Divination classes forever in their third year after hearing another of Trelawney's predictions about Harry's death.  
  
Harry nodded in agreement and then shuddered to himself. "Imagine falling asleep in Snape's class."  
  
Ron moaned. "I'd rather not. We'd never see the light of day again."  
  
Harry had to agree. Snape had always hated Harry; and Ron along with it since he was his best friend.  
  
A knock on the partly opened bedroom door startled them away from their thoughts of Snape, and Mrs. Weasley's tired voice floated into the room.  
  
"Ron, both your brothers have seemed to left their entire set of school books in Diagon Alley. Ginny and I are going along with the twins to find them.  
  
"You and Harry can help yourself to breakfast downstairs."  
  
Once his mother was safely down the stairs, Ron snickered. "The idiots! What did they go and do that for?"  
  
Harry shook his head as if to say he didn't know, and joined in on the laughter. Once it died down they both decided to get dressed.  
  
Emerging from the room in jeans and T-shirts (Ron's worn and slightly faded, while Harry's, once being Dudley's, were slipping off him), they headed down to the empty kitchen where two plates sat, piled high with fried eggs, bacon, and toast with marmalade.  
  
"All right!" Roared Ron. "I'm starved!" Helping himself to a chair, he began to shovel forkfuls of the food into his mouth. Harry was soon sitting across from him doing the same.  
  
"Ugh! Do you two ever stop stuffing yourselves?"  
  
Ron looked up from his plate and began to choke on his mouthful of bacon. Harry had to leap up and give him the hemlich before the piece lodged in his throat finally flew out.  
  
"Really, Ron. How charming!"  
  
Breathless, Ron shook his fist at the bushy haired head in the fire. 

If he hadn't talked to his godfather, Sirius, through means such as this the year before he would have been startled out of the little wits he still had by the sight.  
  
"Hermione!" Said Harry, surprised. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Nice to see you too," Spoke Hermione's head huffily from the green flames in the Weasley's fireplace.  
  
"We _are_ happy to see you, Hermione," Started Harry.  
  
"But we're also wondering why you decided to pop into my fireplace without any warning," Ron finished for him, quite irritably.  
  
"Well, I thought it would be nice to visit my two best friends before we go back to Hogwarts," She said in a sickeningly happy voice.  
  
"I was also wondering if you'd do me a favor.."  
  
"I knew it!" Said Ron, accusingly, running over to the fire; but before he could argue, two arms were pushing a great ball of ginger fur into his. This was followed by two yelps of pain, but Hermione ignored that and turned to Harry who had just stepped forward to see what was going on.  
  
The pair of arms, Hermione's, thrust out a large carrying bag at Harry. "Crookshanks will need feeding three times a day; brushed at least once; and shown attentive care at all times."  
  
Harry put down the bag and pulled Crookshanks, Hermione's familiar, a large ginger cat, off Ron, who was swearing loudly. As soon as Crookshanks had reached Harry's hands however he jumped into the air and fled under the table.  
  
Hermione cast them both a dirty look and then grinned, "See you in four days!" Her head and the green flames disappearing with a pop.  
  
Ron let out another string of curses, and then jerked his thumb at Crookshanks, who was now on top of the table, tackling a piece of Ron's toast. "What are we supposed to do with that thing?"  
  
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Ron had never liked Crookshanks. They had first met in a magical pet store, when he had been buying Rat Tonic for his pet rat, Scabbers. Crookshanks had jumped on top of him, nearly beheading him. Of course, he had actually been trying to kill Ron's rat, who turned out to be Peter Pettigrew; a servant of Voldemort who had framed Harry's godfather for betraying his parents and killing thirteen people with one curse.**..** Since Wormtail (that had been his nickname when he was a student at Hogwarts) managed to escape once found out, Sirius was still known as a convicted killer.  
  
"Oh**,** hello," Called Percy's unexpected voice, hauling them out of their stupor.  
  
"Decided to come home for lunch," He explained, his face hard evidence of long hours at work. "The office is so very hectic these days."  
  
What he had meant to say was Mrs. Loitle was an incompetent fool, but he couldn't insult his boss like that.  
  
"You two wouldn't mind fixing me up a spot of lunch?" He questioned Harry and Ron. "Crazy tired, I am."  
  
Crookshanks spotted Percy standing by the table and immediately began rubbing up against his leg.  
  
Ron stared at his older brother in utter disgust, muttering "Always knew it was a stupid cat."  
  
Harry, shrugging apologetically at a confused Percy, followed his friend into the living room.  
  
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"The both of you will be the death of me yet!" Roared Mrs. Weasley, upsetting Harry and Ron's Muggle card house in the living room. ("It was stupid anyway.")  
  
Percy could be heard jumping from his chair in the kitchen, where Crookshanks and him had been comfortably situated.  
  
Fred and George came teetering into the living room with large piles of books in their hands. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny followed behind, but held considerably smaller piles.  
  
Surprisingly enough, both female Weasley's were covered from head to toe in what looked like paint. Ginny had a spot of green on her nose, purple on her forearm, and pink on her legs. Mrs. Weasley's face was entirely blue, and her white dress now resembled a tie-dye T-shirt.  
  
"Exploding chalk," Fred explained excitingly.  
  
"Of course we let Mum and Ginny pass us our books so it wouldn't explode on us." George continued.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's face reddened. "It's bad enough that you vandalize your school things!" Harry noticed several crude drawings on the worn volumes. "But to have it explode in your mother and sister's face?  
  
"Upstairs! And take your books with you!"  
  
The twins grimaced at their mothers yell, but upon walking past Harry they whispered, "It worked, though!" "Brilliantly!"  
  
Ron had been doubled over in laughter for quite some time now, and noticing this Ginny puffed out her chest and stalked up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley threw a threatening glare at her youngest son and turned on her heel back into the kitchen.  
  
"Percy!" She said delightfully. "How wonderful that you came home for lunch. Wish your father would be so considerate.."  
  
Her voice faded away as the sounds of her preparing Percy's lunch filled the kitchen.  
  
Ron looked over at Harry and grinned. "Today's proving to be interesting, at the very least!"  
  
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Crookshanks spent the next three days aggravating Ron, guarding Percy as if its life depended on it (Harry was reminded of Crookshanks relationship with Sirius), enjoying the lavish attention Ginny reigned down upon it, and for some reason, avoiding Harry at all costs. This didn't bother him too greatly. Although his dislike for the cat certainly didn't rival that of Ron's, it was there nonetheless.  
  
When finally Hermione arrived to take Crookshanks back into her care, Harry and Ron hadn't lifted a finger. In fact, they'd played Quidditch (using Muggle Ping-Pong balls), and watched Fred and George's imitations of their professors the entire time. Ginny and Percy had cared for it, quite willingly. Although Percy did object at cleaning up after it when it had an accident on their living room carpet.  
  
When Hermione did arrive, she came in full form, bushy haired as always, deeply tanned, and looking like more of a girl than ever in a sun dress. At the sight of her suitcase and trunk full of Hogwarts things, Ron groaned.   
  
Mrs. Weasley hit him on the back of the head with her dishtowel ("Ow, Mum! I just want Crookshanks gone!") and beamed down at Hermione. "I'm so glad you could take up my invitation, dear. I'm only sorry it can't be for longer. The Hogwart's Express leaves the day after tomorrow."  
  
"Excellent," Said Percy, strolling into the kitchen and spotting Hermione and her bags. "Does this mean Crookshanks will be staying again? He really is a quite intelligent cat, you know. Why, just the other day.."  
  
Percy didn't notice Ron pretending to gag behind him or Harry and the twins cracking up.  
  
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Much to Ron's despair, their last day of vacation came and went. Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting side-by-side on the porch steps discussing this during the late evening before they would be heading back to Hogwarts.  
  
"I wonder who'll be our next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harry thought aloud.  
  
"Reckon he'll be another prat," Ron said, leaning up against the porch railing. "Although Lupin certainly wasn't one, and if Mad-Eye Moody had been real.."  
  
Mad-Eye Moody had been under the Imperius Curse by Barty Crouch's son (servant to Voldemort, and presumed to be dead at the time), who had been posing as him with aid of a polyjuice potion during his time as a professor at Hogwarts. He would always be remembered for turning Malfoy into a bouncing white ferret, though.  
  
Hermione squealed excitingly and threw them both a look they knew too well. A look that said "I know something you don't know."  
  
"Great. What is it now, Hermione?" Asked Ron, looking at her suspiciously.  
  
Harry sighed. What did Hermione know that they didn't?   


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	12. Mad Man

**Surprising Evil**   
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**Disclaimer- **Everything, right down to Fred and George's gaping mouths, belongs to JK and the numerous companies she's entrusted with the copyrights. 

**A/N- **Yup, folks. I know it's been a while-but here's the twelfth chapter.   


**Mad Man**   


The frustrated looks on both Harry and Ron's face betrayed them. Just as Hermione's vocal cords were fighting against her restraint to let out her hidden knowledge, Harry's and Ron's were throbbing with questions to ask. Noting this, Hermione stood up so quickly she nearly had a dizzy spell and backed away from her two friends. 

Ron hadn't time to shout, "For Merlin's sake, we're your best friends, Hermione!" before she had stormed through the screen door, letting it bang against the door frame behind her. 

"Girls," Ron muttered, swearing under his breath. 

Their questioning didn't succeed the next morning, either. In fact, they didn't even have time to pester Hermione. They'd left their packing to the very last minute and were still trying to pack away their Hogwarts' things when most of the family was enjoying breakfast. 

When finally they were packed, they all but jumped down the staircase, eagerly anticipating the soon to come moment when they could fill their rumbling stomachs. They ate a breakfast of sweetened grapefruit, frothy glasses of milk, French toast, and scrambled eggs while waiting for Fred and George who were still upstairs, gingerly packing their own books. They were doing so very carefully because they didn't want the Exploding Chalk that covered the books to explode on them. 

The spacious interior of the yellow Volkswagen awaited them, and when they finally did pile into the car (all nine of them, quite comfortably because of the magical advancements made by Mr. Weasley) and start off towards the station, they had to return to the Weasley household several times. The first time was so Ginny could retrieve from her room the souvenir Hermione had bought her in Italy (a tiny model of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, complete with talking and walking tourists); the second time so that a grumbling Ron could take from the porch a forgotten and squeaking Pigwidgeon (Ron's small owl); and the third time so that Fred could return to the house and bring along his entirely forgotten luggage. 

Once they were on the road, The Burrow long behind them, and most of their luggage alongside them, they were much too busy chattering about the coming school year to notice the empty Muggle streets. 

~ 

"Hurry it up will you, Harry?" prodded Ron, from behind him. 

No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't move his trolley, laden down with his school supplies, a step further. 

With Harry in front, then Ron and Hermione, the twins, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley following behind, they had been walking towards platform 9 ¾ (which is in the barrier between platforms 9 and 10). 

A loud grumbling took place down the line as Ron started to wheel around Harry, holding up the line once again as he too stopped from moving forward. 

Soon, everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing that way, reading the sign on the barrier between the empty platforms 1 and 2.   


**Wanted: Sirius Black******

**The repeated murders that have been happening in Britain are believed to be the work of the convicted felon, Sirius Black.******

**He escaped, armed and dangerous, from a high security prison two years ago. Police have no doubt it is this man who is committing the harsh crimes.******

**Because of this safety risk, we can not take responsibility for any loss of life not concerned with the trains while you travel.**   


Below this was a picture of Sirius when he had been in the wizard prison, Azkaban. His hair hung down past his shoulders in unwashed strands, his skin was pale and sunken, and his eyes stared out at them morbidly. Harry felt like he had just been punched in the gut. 

Hermione and Ron grabbed their friend and traded a nervous glance with each other. 

"You mean they haven't caught the bas-" 

"Fred!" shouted their mother shrilly. 

Only Fred, George, and Ginny didn't know of Sirius's innocence. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had thought that the secret would be best kept if not shared with too many. 

"Go on, now," said Mr. Weasley nervously, looking over at the suddenly ill-stricken Harry. 

Harry gulped. "It's.. Voldemort's ally." 

He turned to the Weasley's, his eyes flashing in anger. "IT ISN'T SIRIUS!" 

Mrs. Weasley placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder as the twins and Ginny stared at him in wonder. Ron coughed rather uncomfortably and wheeled his cart around the barrier, heading for Platform 9 ¾. Hermione cast a fleeting look back at Harry and followed Ron, Ginny at her side. The twins stood gaping at Harry until their father prodded them forward with a small gesture. Harry continued to stand there. 

With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Weasley's hand left Harry's shoulder. "He'll be all right Harry." 

Fishing for a tissue in the pocket of her dress, Mrs. Weasley hurried off, releasing a sob as she blew her nose loudly. Mr. Weasley placed his hand on Harry's back and gently pushed him forward. 

"Go on, Harry." 

Turning back around, Harry's fists clenched over the top of his cart and he began to push it towards the others. 

Mr. Weasley stood behind. In a whisper he choked out, "Be careful, Harry."   



	13. Silencing Train Rides

**Surprising Evil**   


**Disclaimer- **The great JK has not only the privilege of a new baby boy (many congrats from the fanfiction world!) but also of owning the brilliant characters used here. 

**A/N- **Look, I really am alive! Whether you are or not from the shock of my posting the last chapter is another thing. Hope you enjoy! 

**Reviews- **Be sure to drop me a note at the end of the chapter. Were the characters 'in character'? Was my writing awful? Tell me.   


**Silencing Train Ride**   


When Harry had stepped through the Muggle barriers 9 and 10, he was greeted by both Ron and Hermione. They stood just underneath the sign announcing its welcome to Platform 9 ¾. They stopped their avid chat abruptly as they watched him draw near. 

With strained smiles, they each took position beside him and pushed their luggage trolleys towards the scarlet train. They each piled their belongings into the same compartment, going in after it. 

Harry collapsed into one of the seats, and after they each cast a side long look at each other, Ron and Hermione sat across from him. He surveyed them in mild confusion, shaking his head and looking out the window to ponder his god father's criminal status. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ron and Hermione elbow each other in the side between long intervals of silence. Just as Ron threw her a particularly hard jab, Hermione stood. "Oh!" 

"Erm.. Sorry." 

Hermione disregarded Ron with a wave of her hand and perched on the edge of the seat, leaning towards Harry with excitement. Ron seemed rather puzzled, shaking his head and staring at her as though she was suddenly sporting a Slytherin robe. Harry turned his full attention to her. "What is it, Hermione?" 

She squealed with delight and fell against the hard back of her seat. 

"Guess who'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" 

Harry looked back out the window and muttered darkly, "Snape?" 

It seemed fitting, with all the horrid things happening of late. 

Hermione ignored the comment and continued. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. Even I'm not supposed to know, but in my Prefect letter.." 

"PREFECT LETTER?" 

Ron had jumped from his seat. "You're a bloody.. prefect, now?" He spat out the word as if it were something particularly vile. 

She frowned. "Why, yes. I was quite surprised, of course. But it is fitting, don't you.." She trailed off, noting Ron's angry glare. 

"Really, Ron.. You shouldn't use such foul language. That's the sort of thing that may cause me to take off points. Imagine! From my own house!" 

Ron rolled his eyes and plopped back on the seat beside her. "Exactly what I'm talking about." He looked to Harry, whose gaze had been drawn away from the window by their argument. "We won't be able to get away with anything this year!" 

"And rightfully, so!" interrupted Hermione in a shrill voice. 

"What's right about it? Doing in your own friends? You have to promise, right here and now, that you won't be taking any points from us." 

Hermione's eyes widened, and she seemed about to say something quite nasty, when in a calm voice, Harry asked, "Who's the new Defense teacher, Hermione?" 

She took in a deep breath, and with a nasty glare at Ron, she turned to Harry with a rather pleasant smile. "Sirius." 

Harry blinked at his friend, unable to say anything. Ron groaned and placed his head in his hands. "Great, a delusional prefect! We won't have to even do anything to lose points." 

Hermione huffed, "I am not delusional. When I saw his name on staff list of the pre.. Hogwarts letter I received, I sent an owl to Dumbledore, asking why he made such a choice. After all, most of the Wizard world thinks Sirius to be.." 

"We know that, Hermione," shot Ron, rudely. 

"Well?" asked Harry, tactfully deciding to ignore Ron. Hermione did the same. 

"He explained that I, being your friend and a prefect, was the only one who actually saw the real identity of our new professor. He'll be teaching using a Polyjuice Potion, so he'll look just like a regular non-convicted Wizard." 

She frowned. "Well, not quite regular." 

"Why?" asked Harry suddenly, looking quite pale. "Doesn't he realize how dangerous this could be? If someone were to see him.." 

"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore will make sure he's perfectly safe. Besides it's for your protection.. Oof! Ron!" 

She looked towards Ron who had just kicked her left shin. She began to blush upon seeing his angry expression and immediately began to try to fix her mistake. 

"I, of course mean.. the protection of.." 

It was too late, Harry had already stood and was glowering at them both. "My protection? I don't need to be protected. I survived a duel with Voldemort last term! Has everyone forgotten that?" 

Ron stiffened and Hermione clasped her hands tightly in her lap. 

"It's all my ruddy fault everyone's in danger. It's all my fault they're dead." 

Hermione blinked away approaching tears while Ron swallowed hard, turning a bit red in the face. Trying very hard not to raise his voice, he said, "It's not, Harry. It's.. You-Know-Who's fault. He killed them." 

"BECAUSE OF ME!" 

"Yeah, but if you hadn't drove him away when you were just a baby, think of all the others that would be dead!" Ron's struggle to keep his voice down seemed to had been forgotten. 

Harry shook his head. "That was my mum." He choked on the last word. 

"I 'spose it was her during first year too, then? Y' know, when you fought him off from getting the Stone? What about when you saved my little sister? Or last term.." Ron stopped. 

"When I killed Cedric Diggory." 

Hermione, in a faltering voice, said, "You didn't kill him, Harry. You told us what happened." 

Harry sat back down and looked out the window. "He didn't have to come with me." 

Ron looked about to retort but Hermione pulled at his sleeve. Muttering something about "no good stubborn idiots", he sat back on the seat. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence, interrupted only when Snack Trolley came around. Even then, no one budged from their seats. Though Ron eyed the chocolate frogs rather greedily, no one bought anything and she left with a sympathetic survey of them all. Shortly after, Hermione left to change into her school robes. Ron cast a cautious glance at Harry as before they began to change as well, but Harry seemed to be ignoring him. Hermione returned with her Prefect badge pinned firmly on her breast, only to tell the silent boys that she was needed up front. 

As the train halted, finally reaching their final destination, Ron seemed to gather up all his courage to utter just one word. "Harry?" 

Harry stood to leave the compartment. "Yeah?" 

Ron faltered, and after seeming to run a thing or two through his head, he shrugged and buried his response of "Never mind" in a rather timely cough.   


**Review! -- **Punish me with a flame for wasting your time with this godawful chapter.. or ..praise me for my brilliance. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what needs to be improved, etc. ANYTHING!   



	14. Corking Sorting Song

**Surprising Evil**   
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**Disclaimer- **Anything in this story that is recognizable is the ideas of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. As well, this story was started before the release of the fifth book and will be written as though I hadn't yet read it.   


**Corking Sorting Song**   
  


"Wonder when we'll get to see Hermione again," Ron grumbled, looking out the window of the horseless carriage he was sharing with Harry. 

Harry ignored him. "Why isn't Hagrid here?" 

Ron shrugged. "Dumbledore probably has him out working for him. Hermione said something about giants in one of her letters." 

"Hagrid's not a giant." 

Ron shook his head, giving Harry a look that showed he clearly thought him an idiot. "Of course not, but he is half. Maybe Dumbledore's finally cracked and is hiring full giants now." 

Harry looked out the window, avoiding Ron's gaze. "Well, he's hiring wanted criminals, isn't he?" 

Ron didn't say anything. He followed Harry's glance, and took to staring out the window as well. "Hermione's going to be worse than Percy now. Really, she'll be the next Big Headed girl..." 

Ron continued on for quite some time, but Harry had long ago tuned him out. When the carriage stopped in front of Hogwarts, Harry was the first to leave. He didn't bother to wait for Ron, but instead hurried up the Hogwarts steps, past the Entrance Hall, and into the Great Hall. He sat near the end of the already rapidly filling Gryffindor table. 

Ron quickly dropped beside him. With his long legs it hadn't taken him much effort to catch up. "And to think some people actually wait for their mates." 

Harry mumbled a quick sorry and looked up to the staff table. Two spots were empty: Hagrid's and the Defense Against the Dark Arts' professor's. As his eyes ran up the length of the table, he noted, disdainfully, that Snape was there. 

Shuddering somewhat, he realized that Snape's eyes were searching out his own. Harry turned his head and focused on Dumbledore who was avidly chatting with McGonagall. When she left (to gather the first years, Harry assumed) Dumbledore turned his attention to Harry. Harry shuddered, realizing there was no longer any sparkle in the old wizard's eyes. 

He turned his attention to Ron, who was leaning against the table, seeming as if he were fighting to stay awake. 

".. and then I had a shot of the very top. The Eiffel tower, you know, is.." 

Harry wished he'd kept his attention on Dumbledore. 

Colin Creevy, a lively, shutter happy young boy, was chattering across from Ron, clutching his camera tightly to him. 

"Harry!" 

"Colin." 

Colin grinned. "I was just telling Ron here, about my summer. Would you like to hear?" 

Harry shook his head. "That's quite all right, Colin. Besides, I think they're going to start the sorting." 

Ron shot Harry a relieved look, and clapped him on the back. Harry almost smiled, which seemed to please Ron. As the first years, led by McGonagall, their Transfiguration professor, sidled in towards the stool and sorting hat at the front of the Great Hall, just before the staff table, Harry's eyes swept the rest of the Gryffindor table. 

Fred and George Weasley sat a few seats up, laughing over something with Lee Jordan. Hermione sat up a bit farther with the other prefect, of which was Neville Longbottom. Harry was rendered speechless and was just about to elbow Ron when McGonagall drew an attention seeking cough. 

Each student in the great hall fixed their attention on the ratty hat, in which a brim was opening, sitting upon the stool. 

To the first year's amazement, the hat began to sing. 

"Seven years you will attend   
The finest school of all   
But only in your very first   
Will you adorn me and hear the call 

Of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw,   
Slytherin or Hufflepuff   
Placing you in you house, with your family   
Where you will surely live out your destiny 

So no need to fear or fret   
Just keep your thought in check   
And for your favorite house   
I hope you pray like heck.." 

Several small first years standing directly before the hat giggled. So did many other students in the hall. 

"Of founding fathers, Gryffindor   
Was the most brave, by far   
It was he who set out for impossible tasks   
And set risk takers upon the highest par 

His rival, ambitious Slytherin   
Set these two houses apart   
It was the cunning he so seeked   
Those who were not, he thought as only a tart.." 

Those who hadn't laughed before were doing so now, especially the students at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy loudest of all. 

"Dear Helga Hufflepuff, loyal was she   
Accepted no less than the hardest workers   
Into any house of hers,   
Her loving antics suggesting her quite corkers.." 

Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff, had gone quite white. Professor McGonagall was busy stuffing her knuckles in her mouth. 

"Ravenclaw was smarter than the rest   
And suspected the same from her students   
It was those of studious habit, she favored   
This house, beyond all, seems to have the most sense 

No, I haven't lost my wits   
I'm just as clever as I was a millennium ago   
I simply thought I'd add fun to my song this year   
Shouts around of, 'Hear! Hear!'" 

The Great Hall burst into the said words, Ginny Weasley's shouts being heard even over the twins', despite that she was underneath the Gryffindor table rolling around in a right fit of laughter. 

When the hall had quieted some Dumbledore rose and anyone still talking or laughing immediately stopped. Just as he opened his mouth, there was a loud crash at one side of the Great Hall and fearful screams erupted from the Hufflepuff table. 

"Bloody hell," came Ron's gasp.   


**A/N-** Review!   
  



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